The Lost Chapters
by Zute
Summary: These are some little ficlets that didn't make it into A Southern Californian in King Cailan's Court.
1. The Sheep

We trudged along the broken trail, climbing down from the Frostback Mountains. Everyone was happy to be leaving that mess behind. Me especially. It had me looking toward the future again. Well, toward the next few days at any rate. I refused to look too far into the future because a big, fucking, scary-ass archdemon, who was going to kill me and everyone I loved most, lurked there. So instead, I looked into the very, very near future and I saw... myself learning a new shapeshifter form!

"Danny?" I said, jostling my companion out of his quiet contemplation.

"Yes, Lucy?" he replied.

"What shapeshifter form should I learn next, do you think?" I thought I'd gather his input this time. "You know, you always complain I have cold feet at night. If I were a fuzzy creature, I might be warmer to sleep next to. How about a lovely Bengal tigeress? Do they have tigers here? Maybe I could do it just from memory."

"I don't know what a tiger is, Sister."

"What about a bear? That would be easy to learn, Morrigan already knows it."

"You'd be too big to fit into the tent, I think."

"Are you saying I'd look fat in that form?" I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

"Of course not, mon chéri, you would look svelte as a bear, I am certain."

"Liar," I said, enjoying making Riordan uncomfortable. "Well, what do you think? What sort of animal should I learn next?"

"I think..." Riordan mused, "a sheep".

"A... sheep?" I looked at him incredulously. "Why on earth a sheep?"

Zevran trotted up behind us. "What is all this mutinous talk... err, I mean, muttonous chatter about sheep?"

Riordan grinned at Zevran. "Lucy was just asking which animal form she should learn next. I suggested a sheep."

I shook my head at Zevran. "I just don't understand why a sheep. They're not exactly fearsome in battle and I can't imagine sleeping next to one is all that nice."

Zevran chuckled. "Ah, yes, a sheep." He winked knowingly at Riordan.

"What?" I sputtered. "You can't seriously... No! Just no!" I glared at both men. "That's sick!"

Riordan shrugged. "What if the sheep consents?"

"Sheep can't consent!" I howled.

"But you could." He grinned victoriously at Zevran. "I run rings around her logically."

I fumed and spluttered until Riordan threw an arm around me. "I'm just teasing, little Sister. I think you would make a splendid tigress, whatever that is."

"It's a beautiful, large cat with deadly claws and teeth." I glared at Riordan. "They eat the male of the species after mating with them." I decided to add.

Riordan and Zevran exchanged a worried look.

I smiled contentedly, like a cat with a bowl of cream.


	2. Groovy Festivus

**Note: **_This is my drabble for the holiday challenge on PeopleOfThedas._

"Why are you dragging a tree inside the Keep?" Anders asked me.

"It's tradition where I come from." I explained. "We put ornaments on it and lights. Then you put presents under it. Then on Festivus day we open the presents and sing songs and dance around the aluminum pole." I was going to customize earth's holiday into something completely different and teach these brand new _customs_ to an unsuspecting world.

"What's aluminum?" Nathaniel asked.

"It's a metal. Like silverite only very light and inexpensive. Quite common on my world."

Anders smiled. "Perhaps Wade could make us a silverite pole?"

"That's a marvelous idea!" I said clapping my hands. I was going to need a while to make up more ridiculous customs. I needed to write lyrics for my Festivus songs too. I was going to have a meeting with some of the vendors around the Vigil and fill them in on the new tradition.

"We're going to need a Santa Claus too," I said. I scrutinized Anders and Nathaniel carefully.

"What is a Santa Claus?" Anders asked.

"Ah! I'm glad you asked." I chirped. "A Santa Claus is the mystical man who is said to deliver the presents on Festivus. He dresses in a red outfit... black shiny boots and red... trousers, very tight fitting trousers. That's the ticket! All the, uh, people sit on his lap and whisper in his ear what they want for Festivus. Then he gets up and he dances like this.

I put my hands behind my head and bumped and ground my hips in my best approximation of a Chippendales dancer that I could.

"And if the.. uh, people, like how he dances they beckon him over and they put a silver coin in his... pouch. Or a sovereign if they really like him." My voice trailed off, imagining the new and improved holidays I was going to invent.

Oghren laughed loudly. "That's not the holiday you described last year, Commander."

How did the dwarf have enough brain cells left to have a memory that long term? I sidled up to him and bribed him with bottle of White Lightning to keep his mouth shut.

And so the new holiday of Festivus was born on Ferelden and is still celebrated in the North even now. Young men now vie for the title of The Santa Claus, which I was responsible for handing out for many years. The Festivus songs I wrote the lyrics too are sung by children, well... the ones that aren't too filthy. The other ones are sung by their parents late on Festivus night when The Santa Claus dances. All during the season you can hear people greet each other with the traditional greeting. "Groovy Festivus, baby!"


	3. Questions for Riordan

"Is an archdemon similar to other animals?" I asked Riordan.

Riordan stopped walking and looked at me. "What? I suppose so, in some ways. It's the spirit of an old god in the body of a dragon."

"So it's a big flying lizard? It eats? Likes to sun itself? Poops? How big is an archdemon turd?" I was on a roll. Riordan was a senior Warden, he would certainly know this stuff.

"They eat people, cattle... pretty much anything unblighted. Yes, their turds are enormous. There is one Grey Warden legend from Garahel's time about the archdemon strategically vacating his bowels on a division of infantry with devastating results. Those who weren't buried and suffocated were exposed to toxic levels of blighted crap."

I tried not to giggle but I simply couldn't hold it back. "Eliminating the enemy, so to speak." I walked on musing. If the archdemon is simply a big lizard couldn't we just kill it by poisoning it? Or perhaps blowing it up? What possible use is there in stabbing at it at close range? "Riordan?" I was full of questions now.

"Hmmm?" Riordan looked at me warily. He had been around me enough now to know how these Q&A sessions usually went.

"If the archdemon's essence, whatever the hell that is, ends up in the Grey Warden who kills it, what happens if it dies from being blown up? Or being poisoned?" I paused a moment. "Who gets the credit for the kill? The person who made the bomb or the one that lit it?"

"Merde! I don't know."

"I mean, what if I give the archdemon a wound and it festers over the next two weeks and then it dies. Am I the one that killed it and I get asploded by archdemon essence? Does its essence travel hundreds of miles to seek out the Grey Warden that nicked it? Or does it seek out the bacteria that caused the infection?"

Riordan grumbled something I couldn't hear, then, "Lucy, I don't know. This is not covered in the records."

I shook my head. "You guys are either not very curious or you're lousy record-keepers. I give you credit for figuring out drinking the blood was a good idea but seriously, did your intellectual curiosity abandon you after that moment?"

Riordan started sputtering in French, I mean Orlesian, and gesticulating wildly. "You don't _experiment _on an archdemon, you kill it!"

"Avernus," I said, "now there's a guy with a proper respect for experimentation and intellectual inquiry. Sadly, a bit new to the idea of ethics though."

There were even more questions brewing in my mind, but our senses started buzzing. Darkspawn incoming! I watched as they drew closer and wondered why they had such badly aligned teeth. Ah well, more questions for Riordan.


	4. Plausible Deniability

Notes: This story takes place in the "A Southern Californian in King Cailan's Court" universe. The heroine, Lucy Woodridge, is transplanted into Elissa Cousland's body. This story involves frolicking about without clothes so shouldn't be read by tender eyes! You have been warned. Avert thine eyes, yon tender-eyed ones!

R&R and I'll name any babies that result from this unholy union after you!

**Plausible Deniability**

_Or Things That Never Happened (but I sort of wish had)_

_Ostagar_

My second day of insanity began at the crack of dawn when Elissa's dog, Liam, charged into my tent and slobbered on me, panting and wagging and doing things dogs do to dog-people. Only I'm not dog-people… too bad Liam didn't know it. As far as he knew I was his mistress, Elissa Cousland. Mabari are smart, but he wasn't following my explanation of time-space continuum and dimensional shifts. It didn't really matter; I'd made it all up anyway. I had no idea how I'd ended up in this weird place as a Blue Woggan.

I'd dreamed of really awful creatures, darkspawn apparently, and a big purple dragon who certainly never starred in a kid's show. The _archdemon._ That was what Duncan said that thing was. I wondered if a line of plushies featuring the archdemon might be a popular item for kids in this place. Well, judging from what I'd seen so far, they might be a few years off from making that fake acrylic fur in that particular shade of purple. At least I knew no one had trademarked that design yet.

Bits of yesterday's events came back to me. I had fallen asleep on my sofa listening to very late night TV and awoken here, in Ostagar, in Elissa Cousland's body. She'd just undergone the Joining ritual. Duncan and Alistair had been very puzzled by me, but they'd taken me to the meeting with Loghain – rather handsome fellow, my age, but with a sour attitude – and the King – a bit of a doofus, but extremely handsome, and quite shiny. At the meeting I convinced myself I was having a sex dream and might have acted out a bit. All right, I acted out a lot, making kissy lips at Cailan and trying to provoke Duncan. I think I might have even blown a kiss to Loghain… I don't recall.

In the end, Duncan and Alistair escorted me away from the meeting convinced Elissa Cousland had been possessed by a desire demon. We'd gotten that resolved when a Grey Warden mage had determined I wasn't possessed but there was something very odd about me. I figured that I'd probably just gone insane. However, if this was insanity, I was going to enjoy it.

The planned sortie at Ostagar had been postponed, due to my condition and Duncan's clever lies, so I could have a few days to figure out how to become Elissa Cousland. Yesterday they'd tried to cram me full of what I needed to know. I hoped I had retained it.

I groaned and pushed the drooling mabari out of my face and sat up. Elissa's body apparently didn't mind sleeping on a thin bedroll on the ground. God knows, my old (literally) body would've had a hard time of it. I got up and dressed and emerged from my tent-y cocoon into the hustle and bustle… and stink… of a military encampment.

"Ah good, you're awake," Duncan spotted me and rushed over to me, probably before I could do anything dangerous. "Go to my tent and we'll get started with your day's lessons."

As if to answer, my stomach rumbled loudly. "Breakfast?" I asked.

He herded me toward his tent. "I'll see you're given breakfast right away, but in my tent."

"Where do I wash up?" I was prepared for some roughing it, like campground style showers.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "We're a little short of luxurious amenities here… _Elissa._" He used my assumed name, trying to get me used to it.

"That would explain the pervasive smell of unwashed bodies, I suppose. So… I'm guessing no hot showers or baths?" I couldn't let the topic rest, I liked being clean.

Duncan frowned at me and shook his head. "Not unless you can talk Loghain or the King into using their tub."

"Oh?" I perked up with the news. "Loghain probably wouldn't, but I think the King kind of likes me."

The frown turned to scowl and Duncan pointed at his tent. "I think the King likes you too. All the more reason for you to stay away. Into the tent, Warden."

He gave me that delicious glare that just made me want to disobey. Maybe my first instinct had been right, perhaps this was a sex dream. I couldn't help the saucy smile, but I turned and went to his tent. I seated myself at the table and waited on his return. Fortunately it didn't take too long. He brought me a huge plate of food, a pot of tea, and a large mug of ale. "God, you people start a bit early boozing it up, dotcha?" Still, it smelled really good so I quaffed it.

"The water is of dubious quality here," he said. "Best to stick to tea or fermented beverages."

I felt the ale go straight to my head but I launched into my breakfast and barely heard another word Duncan said. I cleaned my plate of everything, no matter how strange it looked or odd it smelled. When Duncan turned his back on me I even quickly licked it clean. Food had never tasted so amazingly good.

Duncan turned back around. "Ready to start your training for the day?"

I nodded. I wasn't really. I was slightly buzzed and starting to think that it wasn't every day one goes insane. I really should take advantage of my delusions and enjoy myself. Still, what if I wasn't insane? That possibility nibbled at the back of my mind. What if I really had fallen into a wormhole in the space-time continuum, like I'd explained to the dog, and ended up here. Then my acting irresponsibly might get me killed or thrown into the stockade.

"_What's the chance I'm not insane?"_ I asked myself.

"_Two percent, give or take a couple of percentage points,"_ I answered authoritatively, as if I actually knew.

I mulled it over. The odds sounded pretty good I was nuts. I decided to ignore the fact I'd just made up that probability.

"All right, then," Duncan said, intruding on my internal debate. "Let's review what you learned yesterday. Tell me about yourself… _Elissa._"

"I am Elissa Cousland, twenty years old, youngest daughter of Bryce and Ellen, sister to Fergus."

"Eleanor," Duncan corrected me.

"Right… Bryce and Eleanor. My father and mother are… Terr… Terrans?" I shook my head. That couldn't be right. "Terns?"

"Your father is Teyrn and your mother is…" Duncan began to correct me but a scratching noise at the tent flap stopped him. "Enter," he said.

Alistair ducked in. "Duncan, there seems to be an issue with our mages and the revered mother. I think you might need to come mediate."

Duncan sighed and rubbed at his brow. His frustration was obvious. "All right." He turned to me and fixed me with a dark stare. "Wait here, Elissa."

I nodded somberly, trying my best to look like I was taking all this seriously.

He and Alistair left and I started to think about that bath again. _"Why the hell not?" _I finally decided the matter and carefully lifted the tent flap. I looked to see if anyone was watching, but all eyes were drawn to Duncan, Alistair, some guys wearing robes and a woman with a symbol on her chest. I took off, walking very quietly and nonchalantly out of the Grey Warden encampment.

I figured I'd try my luck with Loghain first. I stopped sneaking and strode up to the general's tent. Usually there was a guard outside, but he was missing at the moment. This would be easier than I thought.

"Knock, knock!" I said.

"Maker! What is it?" I heard a rough voice answer. I knew that growly voice from yesterday's meeting. It had to be Terran Loghain.

I pulled back the tent flap and went in. "Just me. I was wondering…"

Loghain stood up and towered over me, glaring in that very intimidating way he had. "Cousland or not, you don't just barge into my tent, girl."

I smiled. I was insane, it was fine. "I know and I apologize, but it was quite necessary."

For a moment his glare lightened and he looked concerned. "Is something wrong?"

I nodded, my head bouncing like a bobble-dolls. "Very! The Grey Wardens don't have a tub or a shower and I desperately need a bath."

I thought for a moment he might reach out and grab me. I hoped he would, he was quite an attractive man for his age… and I was quite insane. Who says insanity has to be all serious and unfun? If I should ever become sane again, I'd write a book about how much fun being delusional could be if you just went with it.

"You interrupted me, in the midst of my writing detailed battle plans to tell me you need a bath?" He came closer to me, his hands opening and closing menacingly.

I tilted my head up at him and smiled. "I'm a _dirty_, _dirty_ girl." I laced that statement with every bit of innuendo I could muster.

He looked like I'd just clobbered him with a brick. "Maker…" he said. "Are you quite insane?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"That's my theory. Look, I know you and the King have tubs. I figured I'd ask you first, but if you truly don't want me to use your tub, then I'll go ask your son-in-law. I got the feeling he might be receptive to the notion."

A large, hand clasped around my bicep. "That would be a very poor notion, indeed," he replied, a snarl curling his lip, but there was something in his eye: Amusement? Lust? Both?

"Very well, then! Thanks so much."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I should have you thrown into a cell for this… this…"

"Bath," I provided helpfully.

"Maker's balls… Take your damn bath, girl, and be quick about it. I hope you don't expect this every day."

I decided to spare him the information that, yes, I did in fact, expect to bathe every day. "Jeeves," I said, turning to his manservant, "please see to her ladyship's bath." After all, I was supposed to be Elissa Cousland, one of the highest and snootiest nobles in the land. My impersonation worked well enough to send his servant scuttling off to bring water. I briefly wondered why servants scuttled when other people hurry or run. I suppose it had something to do with comparing the lower classes to bugs since beetles do, in fact, scuttle. Inhabiting the body of noblewoman was bound to affect my egalitarian views sooner or later, and it appeared to be sooner.

I sat down on a stool and began unlacing my boots. Loghain turned away and sat down at his desk and began writing again, his quill scratching against paper. Something told me he wasn't entirely focused on his work. I swear if he'd had eye-stalks they would've been turning in my direction. I shimmied out of my leggings while still keeping on my leather warskirt thingie and I managed to figure out how to take off my cuirass. I had on some sort of padded… thing… under that. I totally didn't know what all these pieces were called and I could barely dress myself in them anyway.

As I partially undressed a parade of servants brought in steaming water and poured it into the tub. Finally it was full enough.

"Your _ladyship's_ bath is ready," Jeeves said. I could totally detect sarcasm. He opened up a sort of screen that partitioned the bath from the rest of the tent then he handed me some neatly folded cloth.

Ah! It was what passes for a towel here, I realized. It was a very, very sad towel. There was no fluff, absolutely no nubby terrycloth texture to it. Still, drying myself was far off into the future. I might wake up in the insane asylum before I even got to toweling off. Right now my attention was entirely focused on hot, steaming water. I went behind the screen and took off the rest of my clothes, throwing them over the screen.

"Bubbles...Yes bubbles would be nice," I said, sighing at the plain, un-bubbly, un-perfumed water.

"Darkspawn that lie down and die without fighting would be nice too," I heard Loghain grumble.

I lifted a toe over the edge of the tub and tested the waters… _very hot!_ "Oh!" I squeaked. I could do this. I eased a leg into it sighing loudly. "Oh god, that's good." I admit I might have thrown a moan or two into mix. I may have sounded fairly orgasmic as I slid into the steamy tub.

"Maker, girl. Keep it down, we don't need to set the entire camp to talking," he grumped.

"Sorry it's just - oooooh, yes! yes! - really lovely." I sighed and leaned back. "Oh, wait. I think Jeeves forgot the soap. Could you get it for me?"

"I don't know what you're used to, Cousland, but I am _not_ your servant."

"Of course you're not. You're an agreeable, reasonable person performing a small task for another person in the way we people of Ferelden do kindnesses for one another. Besides, you never know when you might need a favor from me. Tit for tat, so to speak." I looked down at myself noting the very hot water was making both my tit and my tat red.

"You sound exactly like your mother." I heard him grumble but he did get up and rooted around the tent, looking for the soap I supposed. "Andraste's flaming… I have no idea where… Ah, there it is." He tried to move the screen aside but managed to knock it over and break it. "Maker's ass!" He looked at me, lounging nakedly in the tub and he turned nearly as red as my tat.

"Oh good! You found it." I sat up in the tub so that my assets rose pertly out of the water.

He tried to hand me the soap without looking at me, but dropped it and it slid under the bathtub. "Shit!" He got down on his hands and knees, then his side, as he reached under the tub with his arm, trying to grasp the soap.

I put my chin on the edge of the tub and watched him, trying hard not to laugh. Finally he emerged from halfway under the tub with the bar of soap grasped firmly in his hand. "Your soap, madam."

I put out my hand and he put the bar of soap into it. I reached out with my other hand and placed it on top of his and smiled coyly. This was all part of my program. Since I was clearly insane, I could spice up my delusion a bit. "This tub is large, Loghain. The water is hot and the soap is very slippery… I might need some help with this bath." I traced a line down his neck with a wet finger. "Tell the guard to keep everyone away and let's wash each other's back." I arched an eyebrow suggestively.

He narrowed his eyes and his scowl deepened. I wasn't sure if he was going to reach out and strangle me, sock me in the nose, or kiss me. He surprised me and got up. He kicked the screen aside, breaking it even further, and strode to the entrance to the tent. "Soldier," he growled at the guard who had apparently returned to his post at some point, "I'm taking a bath and I _do not_, under any circumstances, want to be disturbed. Clear?"

"As you say, Your Grace," the soldier replied, crisply.

I watched from the tub, languidly soaping up my arms, as he began to undress. He watched me like a hawk and I watched him watching me. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt and I languorously rubbed the soap across my chest and up my neck, making something of a show for him. That made him speed up the undressing a little.

He peeled his shirt off and I inhaled a bit in appreciation of his musculature. I could certainly understand the sort of strength it would take to wield that enormous sword he carried and that heavy plate mail. He was also a roadmap with scars. I was going to have a lot of fun seeing exactly where that scar ended up that started on his outer thigh and curved around. "Mmmm… they grow them big in Gwaren, apparently." I wanted to show off what I'd learned about him yesterday in Duncan's endless lecturing.

"I didn't grow up in Gwaren." He strode over to the side of the tub and shed his trousers.

My eyes grew bigger. Wherever he'd grown up, they'd used Miracle Grow on him.

He gestured for me to slide down the tub so he could crawl in behind me, to scrub my back I supposed, and then he eased himself into the tub much as I had. It was a big tub, but water sloshed out as he got in. It was going to be a terrible mess for poor Jeeves to clean up.

"Soap."

He said it like he was issuing an order. I held up the bar, well out of his reach. "Yes, it is soap."

"Hand it over."

"I'm prepared to negotiate for the hostage, but as I see it, you're on weak ground for demanding terms. One false move and the soap gets it."

There was a shifting of a sizeable body, his, and I suddenly found myself pinioned against his massive chest with my arms held down to my sides. One of his hands plucked the bar of soap (my hostage) out of my hands. "That's the last order you'll disobey, Cousland."

_Whoa! That was fun! _"Yessir," I said meekly, craning my neck so I could look back and see him. He let go of me.

"You wanted your back washed. Sit up and hold still so I can do it."

I leaned forward and he glided the soap over my back then with his hands worked it into lather. I was surprised at how gentle he could be. The hand with soap slid down my back toward my bottom.

"Stand."

Again with the one word sentences! The man seemed to shun nouns and all the other parts of speech. Still, his command held appeal so I stood. The bar of soap slid over the backs of my legs and then my buttocks. It disappeared for a moment and then his hands worked up lather again. He was taking a rather long time with my behind; his fingers skimmed across its breadth then its length, and then worked at the top of the seam. I held my breath wondering if… Answer supplied! His fingers parted my hemisphere and one prodded _that_ spot, looking for entrance into an exit.

"Loghain?" I asked open-endedly, my voice rising in pitch as the finger worked into me.

"You wanted your back cleaned, Warden. I'm merely obliging. Now, be still." He barked that last bit like another order.

His free hand rubbed the bar of soap across my stomach and then lower. He dropped the soap into the tub with a splash and then began working the newly soaped area into a foamy lather. I might have exclaimed rather loudly as his soapy fingers slid past very sensitive parts of me, because suddenly I heard his son-in-law's voice asking the guard who was in Loghain's tent.

Loghain extracted his hands from various orifices and pulled me back into the water, clamping a hand over my mouth.

"Warden, if you so much as squeak…" he threatened me quietly.

"Mmmph!" I tried to ask him what he'd do. I couldn't properly evaluate whether or not I wanted to risk his ire until I knew the nature of the punishments.

"Err…" we heard the guard clearing his throat. "The Teyrn is taking a bath and doesn't wish to be disturbed." The soldier skirted the question so adroitly I felt he had the makings of a fine political career.

"That's not what I asked, soldier. I will repeat the question. Who is in that tent with my father-in-law?"

There was a lengthy silence as I supposed the poor soldier was contemplating whether dying for treasonously lying to the king, or from being flogged to death by the Teyrn.

"It's the new Warden, Majesty," he finally admitted.

I looked at Loghain as we heard his guard confessing. He looked almost murderous.

A peal of laughter rang out. "Really? Loghain is taking a bath with the Cousland girl? I simply have to see this."

"Ser… err… Your Majesty… He really doesn't wish to be disturbed." I could hear the desperation in the poor guard's voice.

"I bet he doesn't!" Cailan said.

The flap of the tent was thrown open and King Cailan strode in. The sunlight caught his golden armor and it blinded me for a moment, I squinted against the glare. I could see Loghain trying to sink to the bottom of the tub.

"Ha! Loghain, I don't believe it! You old dog." Cailan's eyes raked over me. "I dare say, Lady Cousland, you're every bit as luscious as I'd imagined you to be." He pouted a bit. "I'm so hurt you chose Loghain over me."

Loghain straightened up and confronted his son-in-law directly. "You're married, in case you forgot." He still held his hand clamped over my mouth.

"About that…" Cailan started to say.

"Mmmph!" I bit Loghain's hand.

"Ouch!" He dropped his hand and looked at me threateningly. I'm quite certain if the King hadn't been standing there I would have been spanked. Well, I dream, can't I?

I was insane and this entire situation had proven it. Nothing like this could exist in reality. Therefore I could freely say or do whatever I wanted with fear of consequences. "Well, that settles it then! In the spirit of family unity, the Maker, this blessed land, his exalted monarch and royal subjects, I think we should do the civilized thing and share our bounty."

Loghain and Cailan seemed to muse over my words as if they made some sort of sense. They were utter nonsense, of course, but I'd said them with such authority and gravitas that sounded perfectly reasonable.

"The Cousland's were always known for their skillful diplomacy. I see you inherited your family's gifted tongue," Cailan said smiling at me.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "I could show you exactly how gifted…"

"Maker, yes!" He began to strip off his armor with alacrity.

I hurriedly rinsed the suds off my body and made to step out of the tub but Loghain yanked me back in. "What about _tit for tat_? My back is still unwashed."

"Ah, my apologies." I seized the soap and began to lather his back. My hands worked the trail of soap into lather. I followed ropey muscles and long scars and ended up tracing more interesting lines and curves over his well-developed pectoral muscles and down a washboard stomach. I could feel the dented area where lean waist met slender hips

Royal hands lifted me and a third person climbed into the tub behind me, settling me just in front of him. A tub, I remind you, gentle reader, although large, built for one person. I had to sit nearly on Cailan's lap and both my feet and Cailan's were wrapped around Loghain's hips. It was an awkward moment or two as the pair of men tried to shift around in the tub so they didn't actually have to touch each other, yet could still lay claim to my body.

The tub teetered precariously on its clawed feet and water sloshed out everywhere. Jeeves was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up. There was grunting, glaring and I was being twisted like a pretzel between them as they fought over tub territory. Finally there was a great cracking sound and one of the clawed feet on the bathtub broke and the whole thing spilled onto its side, dumping the three of us out onto the floor of the tent where we flailed like fish.

"This was a great idea," I said as I gained my feet, dripping wet, "but the venue needs work."

"There's one person too many here," Loghain glowered at his naked son-in-law.

"Should I leave?" I asked.

"No!" They both declared together.

I pointed at the bed and shrugged.

"Ah, yes, a bed! A bit plebian but serviceable. Would you allow me, Lady Cousland?" The king gallantly offered his arm and I took it.

Loghain glowered but let me loop my arm through his on the other side.

We fell on the bed, bodies still wet and warm from the bath. _No worries, it'll all soon be wetter anyway,_ I thought.

I inverted myself and proceeded to show the two nobles my diplomacy skills. My clever tongue first addressed His Majesty, as protocol would dictate. I must say he was thoroughly consumed by my negotiations, but I knew if I were to score a diplomatic coup I'd need to win the Teyrn's approval as well. One in hand, the other in mouth, I argued my case the best I knew how. By the guttural exclamations coming from Loghain, I knew I was winning my argument.

The southernmost regions of my realm were being explored by the tenacious Fereldans. Loghain's fascination with the badlands continued from our time in the tub. He once again parted my fleshy half-orbs and sought out the starfish again. When the sea creature refused to open he disappeared for a time and, when he returned, I felt a drizzle of oil falling on me from above.

Meanwhile the king was paying court to my lady parts and an assumption I had made was laid, as it were, to rest: My generation did not invent oral sex.

Between the fore and afting I was receiving, I began to lose track of my task. My hands and mouth didn't move with the alacrity that King and Teyrn wished. There was a rude shoving in the astern that Loghain used to get my attention.

"Get back to it, Warden," Loghain growled.

"Mmmmph!" I answered not-so-crisply.

"Dear Loghain, I believe we need to rethink our battle plan. This Warden must scale not one tower, but two. What do you think?" The king said.

Loghain nodded agreeably. "I think we can definitely leave the mages out of this battle plan. My bed isn't that big."

"Aye, and they're rather old and ugly. No, this Warden can light my beacon anytime," Cailan said. "Shall we dice for who gets the demon's doorway?"

I felt like I was being discussed like a turkey about to be carved for dinner.

"No need, son, I've been preparing the way and it seems to be a tight fit. A little friction is a good thing, and a lot of friction is a very, very good thing."

I began to fear for my _demon's doorway._ I had a very good look at the Teyrn's tower and it was monumental, indeed! Nonetheless I was hauled up the bed and wedged between the two nobles like a piece of bologna in a sandwich.

"Hold, a moment, Cailan," Loghain said. "This is a delicate maneuver. I wouldn't wish to cause the Warden undue distress." I'm sure he was smirking as he said it but my back was to him so I couldn't confirm that. Sudden I felt his siege engine battering at the demon's doorway. "However, due distress, is another matter entirely."

Tears came to my eyes, unbidden, as he gained access. Pain? Oh, a little. But more like it was such a novel sensation that it overwhelmed me.

Cailan seeing my look of distress chided his father-in-law. "Have a care, Loghain! History will tell of this glorious encounter with King, Grey Warden, and the Hero of the River Dane and you'll quite ruin the story if you harm our dear Warden."

"History had better not be telling this story," Loghain grumbled. "I'll have every historian in the country thrown in prison if I must."

"I'm okay," I said, stoically. I was _better_ than okay. The demon's doorway was more accommodating than one might imagine and endorphins were flowing. I could take it and, perhaps, even enjoy it.

"Then, I dare say, it's my turn," the king said. He pushed me back into Loghain's arms as he took the Imperial highway to heaven.

The shriek I uttered was quickly dampened by the Teyrn's hand. "Quiet Warden, we really don't need to cause a scandal."

I collected my wits, feeling so intensely stuffed. I wondered if any woman had had so many heads of state… I cut that thought deservedly short. Besides, the main event had started. The men were beginning to move. There was nothing I could do but try to limit my vocalizations to whimpers of pleasure as they pushed me back and forth. One thrust me one way, the other thrust me back.

"Ah, I dare say, I think I can feel you, Loghain. Imagine the glorious tales…" the king started to say.

"Shut it, Cailan. There's only one tail I'm interested in right now," Loghain growled through gritted teeth.

The double-pummeling became more frenzied and the king's pale complexion began to get ruddy. Loghain's breath came hot and hard against my neck and he started to sound like a locomotive going up a tall hill. My own cries were getting higher pitched and louder. I began calling out directions like a movie producer: "Faster, Loghain! Yes, Cailan. That's it! No, a bit to the left. My left. Oh dammit, I'll do it myself."

It started with Loghain. The poor, old dear froze with a throaty shout and I could feel his contribution to the Deep Roads. He held me against his rigid body as he continued to thrust while his paroxysm still held him.

I was next. My peak was brutal and wonderful. I felt the spasms coursing through me and I yanked and flailed about. I might have fallen off the bed if Loghain hadn't had firm hold of me.

Then the contagious climax afflicted the king. "Celene!" he yelled out. He crashed against me one last time. I'd recovered enough I could hold him.

I assumed it was Loghain's daughter's name. _How sweet he would shout her name while being unfaithful to her._ I could only admire the beautiful golden king of Ferelden.

We three recovered ourselves and dressed hurriedly. There was some unspoken tension between the men but I kissed them sweetly and thanked Loghain for the use of the tub. I left hoping I'd be back to the Grey Warden camp before Duncan missed me.

What would Loghain think when I showed up for a bath tomorrow? But I decided I'd certainly have woken up from this mad delusion and be safely ensconced in my strait-jacket by then.

_Fin_

_**Notes: **__This is a response to Cheeky Monkey's of Dragon Age Challenge to write a terrible threesome involving the poor, old Teyrn Loghain by Tyanilth—check out her stories, they're awesome. Anyway, she rewards these smutty gems in her fic, "The Teyrn's Revenge". Quite amusing! I'm eagerly awaiting Loghain's response to horrible, smutty fiction about improbable couplings._

_I'd love any feedback._


	5. Hot Pursuit

**Hot Pursuit**

_-or-_

**Ser Horrible's Very Good Day**

_A Holiday Story dedicated to Biff McLaughlin_**  
**

"That's the last of the chocolate, Lucy," Anders said. He noted the devastated look on my face and took the empty box from my despondent hands. "Cheer up, sweetheart. I never had chocolate when I was fleeing templars before. So far, this has been easy."

I took back the box, sniffed it deeply to absorb the lingering smell, and then shook the empty box in his face as tears welled up in my eyes. "Easy?" I said, my voice rising in pitch. "Easy? We're out of chocolate how does this qualify as easy? Ser Gel…rick…." I stuttered over the templar's name.

"Mangen…" Anders supplied.

"…frangensenaux…" I said, nearly tripping over his impressively long name.

"Knight-Divine of Orlais," he said. "The meanest, most horrible, mage-tracking-ist templar in the entire history of the Chantry," he provided helpfully.

"Ser Horrible! Yeah, him. He's after our asses and I tremble to think what he'll do to us if he catches us!" I shivered and swooned a little. He caught me in his arms and pulled me into a fierce kiss. My bosom heaved and I'm fairly certain my bodice had even ripped a little as we were running through the forest. "What will become of us?" I sobbed, my well-kissed lips throbbing still.

"It's never pleasant when templars catch you. If you're lucky, they smite you silly and beat you to unconsciousness. If you're not so lucky…" He shook his head and looked at me sorrowfully. "I didn't like the way Ser Mangy looked at you Lucy, like you were succulent piece of fruit."

I frowned and clung to him. "He gave you a rather intense look too, Anders. I can only imagine what perverse desires Ser Horrible harbors!" I flung the chocolate box to the ground. "We must flee!"

"It was rather decent of him to give us an hour head start though," he said, rubbing the scruff on his chin.

"Surely, weighted down in that armor, he can't catch us. He's on foot, as we are." I wasn't armored and neither was Anders. In fact, I was wearing a gauzy white gown that had gotten snagged on bushes as we ran. It had started out ankle length when we first fled and now it had a number of long tears, leaving my legs exposed. There was one long rip on each side of the skirt that went all the way up my thigh. My wild red hair had fallen out of its careful French twist as we'd run. It hung now, like a crazed waterfall, with more than a few twigs and leaves stuck in it. There was even a wild red rose nestled behind my ear that Anders had picked as we ran. Such a silly, sentimental man, that he would make such a romantic gesture as our very lives were in danger. This was why I loved him.

Anders took my hand in his and looked at me with concern. "Can you run again now?"

My bosom heaved a few more times for good measure and I nodded. "I can. I just hope we find this hideout of yours before…"

"It isn't far, my love, but I will carry you if I must," he offered chivalrously.

I shook my head, determined to run until I dropped. I wouldn't be a burden to him. If I must, I will urge him to go on without me. "No. I'm fine."

We began to run again, Anders towing me along after him. My skirts kept getting tangled in the brush. They were altogether in tatters when we finally reached the little cabin hidden beneath the great oaks and maple trees. This was his secret hide-out. He was certain that no templar, even one armed with a phylactery, would be able to trace us to. There were protective magics around the cabin, ones that would negate the phylacteries of blood the templar carried.

Slamming the door behind us, we looked around to take stock of the cabin. It actually looked quite comfortable and, as I went into the kitchen, nicely provisioned. A trap door in the floor led to a large cellar, fully stocked with a selection of impeccable wines, preserved meats, potatoes, onions, garlic and squashes. There was plenty of food in the kitchen, fresh running water from a cistern on top of the roof, and wood carefully piled before the fireplace. Anders immediately set to starting a fire.

"Darling," I said, thinking about what he was doing. "Don't you think Ser Horrible might see the smoke? I would hate to be undone by something so mundane."

He shook his head. "No, my love. This is a special smokeless chimney. Dwarven technology."

"Ah yes!" I nodded my approval. "Well, we might as well warm the place up then while we huddle together in abject fear. I'll open one of these bottles of wine."

With the fire built and the wine poured into elegant glasses—Anders' secret cabin was delightfully well-stocked—we settled in. I was terribly fretful and couldn't relax. Anders insisted I lay down on the soft sheepskin run in front of the fire and he would help me relax with a calming massage.

"You need to take this off, my dear," he said, unlacing the tight bodice I wore over the flowing, gauzy dress. "If you can't breathe properly how do you expect to relax?"

It's never wise to disregard your physician's advice, so I didn't protest as he slipped the corset off me, leaving my gauzy dress to billow loosely around me. I turned over onto my belly and he began by gently massaging my shoulders with hands warmed with a spell. I saw a greenish-grey mist coming from his hands as he massaged me and a boneless, drugged feeling overtook me.

"Not fair," I mumbled, as I struggled to keep myself from drooling into the sheepskin.

He chuckled a low, sensuous laugh and his hands moved further down my back, kneading out the sore muscles. With my tension gone, all I could think about were his hands and how warm and strong they felt and how much I'd like them to go even lower, to lift up my dress and do terrible, naughty things to me.

_~o~o~o~_

The templar strode through the forest, his advance steady and implacable. The stupid phylactery wasn't working. He pulled the cork off the top and drank it. _Cranberry juice__. Merde!_ He flung it into the shrubbery. He didn't need it anyway. He spotted something white on the ground, and lifting the visor on his helm he squatted to examine it more closely. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands. It was an empty box that smelled distinctly of chocolate. A sardonic smile twisted his handsome features.

"Most careless, Anders. You've grown soft. It's the woman, isn't it? You fall in love and your brain has turned to mush, my friend." He sniffed the box, inhaling the scent of chocolate, and then cast it aside. "At least she has refined tastes, no? Imported Antivan chocolate."

He took another step and thoughtlessly crushed the box under his silverite boot. He didn't need the damn phylacteries, there were white threads clinging to shrubs. Along the way there had been long shreds of cloth that had marked their path as clearly as if they'd left giant arrows pointing the way. "Foolish, foolish mages." Even now his groin tightened at the thought of what he would do to the pair once he caught them. The woman… a fine specimen. That glorious red hair, spilling over her shoulders and down the back of her, by now, tattered dress. And Anders, a notorious apostate, hiding behind the skirts of the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. _Well, let's just see how well he hides when I've tossed her skirts over her head. _Anders was actually a very fine looking man, tall, sandy-haired, and with striking bone structure. This was going to be a very, very entertaining hunt with a rewarding finish.

He resumed his relentless pace and followed the spoor of his prey. It wouldn't be long now.

_~o~o~o~_

Anders's hands kneaded my calves and worked their way up to my thighs. Under the influence of his magic, the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted his hands to work their way under the tattered remains of my dress, about eight inches to the north: Bliss! I squirmed shamelessly and moaned.

He paused and leaned down to kiss me. "Do you want to?" he asked.

I halfway rolled over, my eyes heavy lidded and unfocused, still feeling blissful from the magic he used on me. "If Ser Horrible should find us, we might never see one another again this side of the Fade."

"Good point," he said. He rolled me over onto my back, hovering over me, placed kisses against my neck and collar bone. His hand cupped my breast under the tattered dress and his thumb brushed my nipple. I wasn't wearing a breast band, so my dark areola could be seen the gauzy fabric. Hooking his fingers over the loose neck of the dress, he pulled it down. Things were progressing nicely when the front door suddenly burst open with a vicious kick.

"Ser Horrible!" I screamed. He stood in the doorway, backlit by the lowering sun, a dark, looming figure edged in gleaming steal. Still, sprawled on the sheepskin rug, I scrambled backwards into Anders' waiting arms, clutching my dress to my chest, trying to preserve whatever modesty I could. "Anders, do something!"

"Zer is nothing he can do, Warden-Commander," the imposing figure said from the door, with a terrible, thick Orlesian accent. "Your fate is already decided. Resistance is futile."

I looked at Anders looking for hope, encouragement, a hastily whispered plan, but all I saw was resignation. "Aren't you a little short for a templar?" he said.

"Oh, good plan, Anders! Insult him. Get him really mad." I stood up, still clasping my dress to my chest. I had a plan, even if Anders didn't. "Perhaps we can come to some sort of an arrangement, Ser Templar. Sorry about calling you Ser Horrible earlier. I can't remember your real name."

The templar gestured at me to continue. "Let me hear ze offer, Commander."

"You can have the pick of wines from the Warden's private reserve," I offered. It was hard to tell if he were tempted because the helm covered his face and he didn't react in any way. "And my own personal autographed copy the _Hero of River Dane_, by Loghain himself."

The implacable figure shook his head.

It pained me, but I had to sweeten the deal. "And… and… my private collection of Orlesian porn. Erotic drawings of gifted men and women in hundreds of forbidden positions doing unspeakable things to each other. Very life-like!"

The templar tipped his head to the side and tapped a silverite clad finger against the side of his helmet. "Hmmm… tempting, but no. You cannot think to barter with me like a shopkeeper. Resign yourself to your punishment. It will go easier on you."

"Never!" I swore.

"Lucy, it's no use," Anders said. "Just do as he asks."

"Your paramour is wise, my lady." He took a step toward me and removed his helm, tossing it aside.

I had to admit, Ser Horrible was one of the best looking templars I'd ever seen, even if he was a tad short. My legs went weak and threatened to crumple out from under me as he took another step toward me, this time reaching out with a metal encased hand to touch my jaw. I pulled back and ran into Anders chest.

"Restrain her, apostate, for her own good," the templar commanded Anders.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. We'd better do as he says." His strong arms came around me gently and he held me against his chest.

I struggled, but I didn't want to hurt Anders. The templar's gauntleted hand reached for a breast and I shivered as the cold metal brushed against me.

"You are a shameless temptress, Commander. The Maker will punish you for enticing me to stray from my vow of chastity." He licked his dry lips, his eyes fastening on my barely concealed breasts. Slowly he moved his hands to the loose neck of the dress and slid it down. The cold, silverite gauntlets slid down my arms taking the dress down with it. When it had dropped to my hips he reversed the course of his hand and once again the cold metal fondled me. I closed my eyes and tried to still my trembling.

"Look at her Anders, your woman is a shameless harlot like any common hedge witch."

I felt Anders' arms hug me reassuringly, while restraining me. "Yes, ser."

The templar dropped his hands and I opened my eyes again and watched as he removed his gauntlets and dropped them on the floor. He pulled the sword off his back and dropped it. Piece by piece his armor fell to the ground until he was only clad in the cotton trousers he wore under the heavy armor. I could see his erection pressing against them.

"I want you to recite Benedictions 4:10, witch, while I fuck you." The templar pulled my dress off my hips and his hand glided up my leg toward my folds.

"Um, I don't know it," I admitted. I squirmed a little as his fingers rubbed against me.

"Your woman is wet for me, apostate." He held out his hand to Anders mouth and I watched as my lover sensuously licked my wetness off the templar's fingers.

"I'll recite it," Anders offered.

"Good," the templar said. "I don't know it either. Something about wickedness and corruption, my religion, no?"

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter," Anders said. "That'd be you, except you're faltering."

"Oh, shush, Anders! You're ruining it. You wouldn't be that cheeky with a real templar," I complained.

He laughed. "You want to bet? Why do you think Rylock hated me so badly?"

"Hush, both of you or I'll drain your mana," the templar threatened.

"Hmmmm, that sounds sexy," I said. "Could you drain mine first? I think I have an excess of mana right now." I squirmed against Anders, feeling him harden behind me.

The templar glared at me a moment, then his expression softened. "Isn't the templar the one who gives the orders? I might have to think of a special punishment for you."

"I'm the Warden-Commander of… Oh Maker!" The templar had thrown my knees over his shoulders and was in the process of _draining my mana_. "I'm… I…." My words were getting stuck. "…Warden-Commander… I outrank you, templar." Anders' hands moved over my breasts while the templar worked my nub with his mouth.

"Oh… Maker! Oh God!" I called out to a number of deities as I came dangerously close to a religious experience. My hips were wriggling in his grasp as I tried to make closer contact with the templar's tongue.

"Stop her, apostate," the templar ordered.

"Oh man, you're sure about this?" Anders asked.

"Not… neh… neh… neh…now!" I panted as I strove to climax before Anders could…

"There!" he said victoriously. "Clamped. Don't hate me sweetheart. I was just following orders."

… before Anders could put a Denial Clamp spell on me, leaving me perched precariously on the verge of a climax but unable to achieve it, but it was no good.

The evil templar drew away from me; my wetness glimmered on his chin and across his self-satisfied smile. "Magic shall serve mankind. Quite nicely in this case, no?" He chucked me under the chin with a hand and laughed. "Qui! And now you shall pay for your impudence, Warden-Commander."

He pulled toward him a bag that he'd been carrying. Opening it up, he dumped its contents on the floor. A number of implements spilled forth: some shiny, some delicate, and some crude. He picked one up and held it before my face as I twisted and writhed in Anders' grip. "Anti-magic nipple clamps," he laughed evilly as he fastened them to one nipple and then the other.

I whined piteously. They hurt, although the endorphins from my sexual high blunted the pain.

"A nerve block would help with the pain," Anders suggested helpfully.

I tried to twist in his arms but they still held me firmly in place. "Traitor!" I squealed, not completely in control of my voice, or most of my body.

I could just see, over my shoulder, Anders' smug grin.

"Ah, a most helpful suggestion, apostate. I'll go easy on you when it's your turn." The templar reached out with a hand and stroked Anders' cheek. "Do eet!"

I felt a spell coming from Anders' finger and settling into my body. Numbness spread over me, making my body feel like it was swaddled in a thick quilt. No pain or pleasure. Even the feeling of impending bliss was dampened and distant. It was almost a relief. Almost. Except I knew what would happen. When the nerve block is removed, one experiences all the sensations you didn't feel as if they were all happening together. It was… overwhelming. Combine it with a Denial Clamp and it was the worst sort of torture.

I whimpered, truly broken now. "I'm sorry. I'll be good," I shamelessly begged. "Do what you will, just please… please… don't remove the nerve block without removing the Denial Clamp." I'd suffered that particular torture before—long story.

"You're too bossy, my lovely hedge witch. I'd have your apostate lover silence you, but then I can't hear you begging and moaning like a cat in heat," the handsome, horrible templar said.

Anders, filthy traitor, kissed the templar while he held me in place for the templar to ravish. I felt next to nothing, thanks to the nerve block. Even so, the templar took exquisite care to touch me, arouse me, and do all those things that would send me to outer-space once the nerve block was removed. But then he also tweaked the anti-magic nipple clamps and Anders also did his best to contribute to the sensations that were put on the lay-away plan.

"I think…," the templar said, slowly, considering his words, "… it must be time. We'd better carry her to the bed, Anders. We wouldn't want her to hurt herself."

"It's just a matter of time, templar," I swore, my voice low and full of threat, "before I have my sweet, sweet revenge." I whipped my head around to stare at the double agent, Anders. "And you! The worst sort of collaborator. You think you can get away with this…mmmf… mmmmf…. MMMMMFFFF!"

"Sorry," Anders shrugged at the templar.

"You can unsilence her when you remove the nerve block. We wouldn't want to miss that," Ser Horrible said smiling evilly at me.

I'm sure my eyes spoke volumes. I knew what was coming… _Oh Maker_… did I ever. The two men picked me up and carried me to the surprisingly large bed in the cozy cabin. The templar tied my hands to the bed post and rudely shoved my legs apart. He entered me easily; I was still aroused, only I couldn't experience it directly. His grinning, handsome face hovered over mine and he kissed me, pressing his lips against mine in a bruising way I could only distantly feel. Then his teeth nipped at my neck, his fingers tweaked the chain on the nipple clamps, and then his intense amber eyes began to glaze.

"Now, Anders. Remove the block and the silence," he panted, still thrusting in me.

"The clamp! Anders, please!" I begged him as soon as I could speak again.

I twisted my head to look at my treacherous lover. He only smiled and climbed onto the bed with us. He caressed the templar's body as if they were long time lovers. "I think I'll do what the nice templar asked me to do." He removed the nerve block spell.

Sensory overload doesn't begin to describe it. There was the pain of the nipple clamps, the intense pleasures that had been deferred, the pressure, the kisses, the nibbles, the sharp bites, the skillful manipulations of my every erogenous zone and it all happened at once. I lost control of my body and my voice. I sounded like an orgasmic cat, purring, yowling, and mewing at the same time. The only problem was… there was no resolution for this glut of sensation. It just kept coming… and I couldn't, thanks to the Denial Clamp. I could only babble and plead for release.

Dimly, I sensed the templar was reaching his own crisis and he told Anders to remove the clamp. At that point I could only tremble and convulse, the sensations still playing through me and the long delayed climax reduced me to the intelligence of a single-celled creature reacting to stimuli. It seemed to go on forever; my body was wracked by spasms of pleasure, and tweaked by pain that was interpreted as more pleasure, unending.

Finally, with a shriek that sounded more like a whimper, it ended. I tried to raise my head off the bed to say something but my vision narrowed to a pinprick and I felt nothing more.

_~o~o~o~_

Zevran watched as Lucy tried to speak and passed out. "Ah," he chuckled, "that was magnificent, no?"

Anders lazily ran his hand across Zevran's chest. "It was. You make a pretty good templar."

"I'm not going to forget the crack about my height, my friend. And you are still an apostate." Zevran eyed Anders, with half-lidded eyes.

"Mmm," Anders said, almost purring. "I think I'm going to enjoy this punishment."

"We will see about that. Now, I think I need an infusion of some stamina magic, my friend, if I am to do this this again."

Anders grinned. "As you command, Ser Horrible."

_~o~o~o~_

**Notes: **_Merry Xmas, Biff! Here is your Christmas prompting present. __ I hope you liked it!_

_Reviews and comments always welcomed!_


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